


skool luv affair

by maomingming (kenmarcadeblues)



Category: NINE PERCENT (Band), 偶像练习生 | Idol Producer (TV)
Genre: (see notes for details), Age Regression/De-Aging, Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe - Elementary School, Gen, guess who his parents are, unfinished :(, zhenghao is the main character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-13
Updated: 2018-12-13
Packaged: 2019-09-17 10:12:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,405
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16972641
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kenmarcadeblues/pseuds/maomingming
Summary: Adults are idiots.(or, there's something with Zhenghao's dance teacher and art teacher.)





	skool luv affair

**Author's Note:**

> alright so this is basically an impulse upload because i'm frustrated with how many drafts i have?? this was written 7 months ago and it needs another part or two :( rip 
> 
> if i yeet back into the fandom i'd probably finish it but SIGH...anyways just have this thing lmao

“Now, before you give it a try,” Mr. Wang says as he turns around to face his students, “I want to emphasize that your face needs to be bright during this dance. It’s supposed to be fun and give positivity to the audience, so even your expression must convey that. No matter how tired you feel, or if you aren’t sure whether you’re doing a movement correctly, a smile is the essential key. The new art teacher…”

 

Kids nod at him and some, Zhenghao included, half declare, half ask, “Mr. Cai…?”

Mr. Wang’s eyes seem to wobble at the response, as if somehow surprised, but then he’s pressing his lips together tightly and smiling. “Right. Let’s – I want you all to try…to resemble him, got it?”

 

“Yes, Mr. Wang!” Zhenghao choruses along with his classmates, because he totally gets it. Mr. Cai is hardly ever seen without a smile, and if he is, he has a face that emanates brightness anyhow. The man is one of the friendliest-looking adults Zhenghao has met in his 10 years of life (apart from his own parents) and has the personality to match.

 

So Zhenghao totally gets why Mr. Wang would bring up Mr. Cai in this situation. What he doesn’t understand is why his dance teacher’s face in the mirror (easy to see thanks to his permanent spot in the center of the first row of students) is starting to flush, as if they’ve gone through a routine five times or more.

 

The boy doesn’t think of it again until his own face is fully flushed, blood thumping behind his ears as he lays pancake-like on the cold floor of the studio.

 

“Haohao, are you okay?” Mr. Wang asks, as expected. The man never puts any less concern into his voice, always saying the words like he means them despite the number of times this sequence has played out, and Zhenghao has to wonder about his capacity for caring. It must be abnormally large.

 

Mr. Wang has stayed after school with Zhenghao each day of dance class ever since he noticed how the boy struggled and fell behind despite being moved to the best possible vantage point in the class.

 

“Yes,” Zhenghao practically wheezes. He always pushes himself especially hard as his dad advised him to, because Mr. Wang doesn’t get paid for this since it’s technically ‘ _ overtime.’ _

 

Once, he’d come to school with money (straight from his piggybank) to compensate the teacher, but Mr. Wang politely refused to take it. When the 9 year old had come home that day and told his parents, Zhenghao’s more emotive father had been rendered teary-eyed as he squished his son’s cheeks. “Zhu Zhenghao, the world doesn’t deserve you,” he’d declared. “And we don’t deserve a dance teacher like Mr. Wang.”

 

During these after school sessions, Mr. Wang dances right beside him and goes over the moves at snail’s speed, breaking them down into bite-sized pieces that Zhenghao, and a slow-learner from Group B that’s been joining them lately, Zhibang, are better able to digest.

 

“Good,” says Mr. Wang, small smile tugging at his lips.  

 

Zhenghao wipes his sweaty bangs off his forehead and turns his head to the right. There’s Zhibang, doubled-over with his hands on his knees and breathing hard. Zhibang works just as hard or maybe harder than Zhenghao, but never causes a scene after practice; it’s hard to say whether it’s due to having better stamina or a more conservative nature.

 

A pop of yellow in the other’s dark hair draws Zhenghao’s eyes. He wonders how he might look in a headband, then makes a mental note to ask his dads to take him shopping soon.

 

After hesitantly sitting up, he sees Mr. Wang starting to tidy up the place and decides to speak again. “Are  _ you _ okay, teacher?”

 

The adult regards him softly, in that typical fond but serious way of his. “Well, of course. Why wouldn’t I be?”

 

Zhenghao shrugs. “I don’t know, just…your face kind of looked, um, weird at the beginning of class…kind of pink, like…” Almost as if the dance teacher had been blushing in embarrassment – but it couldn’t have been that. There’d been nothing to be embarrassed about. And embarrassment always has a reason, doesn’t it? “It reminded me of a fever or something, so…”

 

Mr. Wang’s thick brows knit together. “Really? Hm, I don’t know. I don’t remember feeling unusual at all. But thanks for your concern, Haohao.” He comes close and tousles Zhenghao’s black mop, sweat and all. “You’re a good kid.”

 

Zhenghao wonders if Zhibang also gets the impression that Mr. Wang is a terrible liar.

  
  


*

  
  
  


“Hm, how to explain the concept of rhythm…” Mr. Cai taps his chin twice before inquiring of the class: “Are there any ideas? What do you all know about it?”

 

Hands shoot up and the teacher points at Mingxia. “It’s the beat of a song.”

 

He calls on Chao next. “If you can’t follow it, you can’t sing or dance very well.”

 

Mr. Cai claps his hands. “Right! So, would anyone like to dance a little for us?”

 

No kids raise their hands.

 

“Me, teacher! I can dance!” Minghao declares passionately, almost falling out of his chair.

 

“Hands, please.” Realizing his fault, Minghao raises his hand and waves it around frantically. As it turns out, he’s still the only one raising his hand. “Okay, Justin,” the adult nods, remembering to use Minghao’s preferred name, “you can come up.” 

 

“Mr. Cai, may I-“

 

Interrupting, Mr. Cai sighs out a, “Yes,” and Zhenghao, to his bemusement, watches the art teacher fight off an eye-roll – an act he’s uncannily familiar with given that his dads are prone to putting each other in a state of exasperation. If Zhenghao’s parents didn’t fight off some of their eye-rolls, they’d get dizzy pretty quick.

 

The group of nine and 10 year olds are not surprised by what happens next.  

 

“Chengcheeeeeng!” screeches Minghao. The boy by that name begrudgingly pushes back his chair and makes his way to the front of the classroom, annoyance clearly written on his face but something else that might be fondness surfaces, too, in a little quirk of the lips as he nears where he’s been summoned. Minghao and Chengcheng are kind of a package deal; they’re best friends but Minghao has always been the clingier one. And the louder one, too, for that matter.

 

“Okay,” Minghao whispers once Chengcheng is standing beside him, “five-six-seven-eight!” The two boys do about thirty seconds’ worth of the old dance routine, a piece set to 24K Magic by Bruno Mars, and are met with applause when they finish. They did very well in Zhenghao’s opinion, especially considering most of that dance has started to fade from his mind to make room for the new one they’re currently learning. Minghao and Chengcheng don’t have problems when it comes to dance class; in fact, they excel in it. As for other classes...well, that same carefreeness they have in the studio and the charisma they bring onstage takes the form of ego, goofyness, and lack of focus elsewhere. Nobody can be good at everything, Zhenghao muses, but retracts that conclusion when he remembers that Wenjun exists. Wenjun just isn’t fair.

 

“Great job! I see you’ve been learning well,” Mr. Cai praises sunnily, and the boys thank him as they return to their seats. “The concept of rhythm in art is similar to rhythm in dance or music. As they were dancing, you all could see that there was a flow, and each movement fit with the others in a certain way. Mr. Wang choreographed this, right?” The class nods. “I can tell Mr. Wang thought a lot about which moves would be best with each other, and in what sequence they would look most appealing. He definitely has a great sense of rhythm…”

 

The man pauses, wearing a dazed look on his face. It’s obvious his mind is floating off on a cloud, which is unlike him. He’s the sort of teacher that stays attentive to his students and the goings on of here and now. It’s not like him to be like this, but Zhenghao understands that humans – adults, even – aren’t robots and as such don’t have strictly-set patterns of behavior.

 

But the peculiar moment passes as Mr. Cai clasps his hands together and focuses. “Now, let me introduce the project you’ll be starting today!”


End file.
